


Instinct Of The Hexenbiest

by Romennim



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Falling In Love, M/M, Mates, Mpreg, past emotional abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2017-11-29 21:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romennim/pseuds/Romennim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adalind poisons Nick, instead of Juliette. That changes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Adalind's Betrayal

**Author's Note:**

> Written to fill [this](http://grimm-kink.dreamwidth.org/3689.html?thread=2744425#cmt2744425) amazing prompt on grimm-kink.  
> Please, read the prompt: it will make clear why Sean could be a bit OOC sometimes.  
> I've tried to follow canon as much as possible, until a certain point, but I've added and changed a few things (and characters) to indulge myself and my sometimes-too-romantic soul.
> 
> Thanks to my new beta, [](http://morena-evensong.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://morena-evensong.livejournal.com/)**morena_evensong** , for betaing the chapter and her kind comments, and thanks to the OP for the prompt: this story wouldn't have been born for sure without her/his idea!
> 
> Well, that's it :) Hope you (especially you, OP) enjoy the story!  
> 

It seems jealousy and petty revenge are not just human faults, Sean reflected darkly, or maybe Adalind had simply adapted very easily to her new status.

He almost snorted. No, Adalind had always been the (stupid) vengeful type and now he had paid for relying on such a childish creature. He should have cut her loose long ago, when he had first understood her feeling for him had become an obsession.

And now the results of his soft heart (foolishness!) were lying, dead to the world, in a hospital bed: Nick Burkhardt, his youngest and most brilliant detective, Portland’s - _his_ , goddammit - Grimm, was unconscious and totally unresponsive to outside stimuli.

There was a part of him, something primal, baser, that was enraged, in uproar and demanded Adalind’s blood. This was beyond certain proof that he was not her mate, despite what she had insisted time and time again for years; Hexenbiester were incapable of such acts against their mate, who were the center of their lives. Adalind knew how important Nick was for his canton.

And Sean hoped that was all she knew, otherwise he was sure Nick would be in the obituary and not in the hospital, even if that was not looking very promising either. The doctors had told him their patient’s status had never been reported before: his cerebral activity was almost non-existent, almost dead, even if Nick was still able to breathe on his own.

Looking at him was eerie: it was like Nick was just sleeping, and in a moment or two he would wake up and open his eyes. Instead, the doctor who had talked to Sean had said, bewildered, that his state was like being “suspended between life and death” and that he and his colleagues were unable to explain what had happened and was still happening to the detective.

But Sean knew. This had Hexenbiest enchantment written all over it, and even if he had no actual proof of the culprit, he was certain it had been Adalind.

If it had been someone else, someone after the Grimm, or even after him, they would have killed Nick, not left him alive - or not so alive - like this. This was personal, personal for Sean, even if devious. Adalind didn’t know how to strike at his heart, thank the heavens, so she had gone for the next best thing and struck at him politically. The fact that one of his subjects, one of his most trusted, had almost killed a person he had gone to great length to protect was probably the worst blow he had received so far.

How could he stand strong against the Royals, against his Family, if he was unable to control one Hexenbiest, turned human? And Adalind knew how important the canton was to him, after what happened with his Family...

But it seemed that after all he hadn’t learnt everything he could have from his experience with his beloved Family. “Trust no one” had been the first lesson. His mother had repeated it for years and now here he was, the familiar bitter taste of disappointment and betrayal, invading his mouth.

And he wasn’t the only one paying for his faults: now Nick lay in that bed, and he had to do something to rectify it .

***

Nick had been unconscious for two days when Sean had to admit that Adalind had escaped his area of influence: his sources had searched every corner of Portland and nothing had been found. Adalind was probably in Europe again by now, and Sean couldn’t afford to make a move in that direction. Too much of his power relied now on the Grimm, and he had to find a way to wake him up, at all costs. He couldn’t afford to lose him, as an ally he had protected and cultivated and as so much more.

And if that wasn’t enough, a member of the Dragon’s Tongue was still roaming around, free, in this city, looking for those damned coins. And his resident Grimm, one of the last people seen with the coins (and Sean suspected the one who still had them), was totally vulnerable.

With a few calls he was able to appoint three of his people as nurses, and station a few police officers in the hospital, but it wasn’t enough. Nick had to wake up.

The situation couldn’t go on.

***

He hadn’t visited Catherine Schade in years, not since he had left Europe and his mother behind, and he would have preferred to never see her ever again, if he was honest with himself: too many memories were linked to her. If not for her importance to his own mother, he would have asked her to leave Portland as soon as it had become his territory.

For once, though, he was relieved he had not followed those first emotional reasons. He had not been educated in the arts of the Hexenbiester, when he was little, on his father’s orders, and when he could have, his desire to bury his heritage as deep as possible had made it impossible for him to learn.

Catherine remained his best choice for Nick. He couldn’t go anywhere else and at least this particular Hexenbiest couldn't betray him.

***

Catherine lived in an unassuming part of town, away from Wesen prying eyes, as it was the best way for her comings and goings not being observed by anyone. It was impossible for Wesen to ignore a threat such an Hexenbiest and if she wanted to come and go as she pleased, without being detected, she needed to be far away from Wesen senses.

That obviously didn’t mean he didn’t have her followed. As much as he would have liked to forget her existence, he couldn’t forget how important she was to him. Her safety was something he couldn’t just ignore.

He rang the doorbell and in a moment the door was opened and she was in front of him, elegant, fair and still as beautiful as so many years ago. The sight of her was like a punch in the gut: too many memories, good and bad, sweet and painful, were connected to her, to his mother, and a part of him wanted to run away, find any other way to do this, away from her acute gaze and flowery scent, so intertwined with the memory of his mother’s.

He almost expected to see his mother stepping behind Catherine, smiling. When a few moments passed and his mother obviously didn’t appear, he shook his head and focused on the woman: his lost look was mirrored into hers.

Yes, he thought bitterly, if she’s a ghost for me, I’m surely one for her.

After a moment of hesitation, she smiled tentatively at him.

“Sean...” her voice was rough, and so, so familiar.

She cleared her throat.

“Please, come in.” she said, stepping aside.

He entered, looking around, his eyes lingering on the tasteful pieces of furniture and the paintings and ceramics: there was no real personal touch behind those, and the photos on the mantel were fake, a good cover if someone by chance came by. Nothing personal could be gained by looking.

The calculating part of him appreciated the care: Catherine had been here for decades by now and still she was as careful as the first days. He knew her name had never come up in the Wesen community, in any capacity whatsoever.

He turned and examined her closely: she hadn’t really changed, and for that he hated her a bit. It was like being thrown back in time, and the sensation of losing control, so typical for the first part of his life, was descending upon him. He had spent too many years working to gain and keep control of his life that it didn’t want anything to alter it.

The memory of Nick lying in a hospital bed flashed through his mind and he knew it was too late: his life was already spinning totally out of control.

“Are you going to greet me properly or will you continue staring at me, Sean?”

Catherine’s voice hadn’t changed, steely and cold as her appearance, but her eyes betrayed her: there was a warm glint there, that she hadn’t bothered to hide.

A smile was threatening to come out, but Sean didn’t let it. He had ignored her for years, and he was here not to get in touch again, but to ask her help in tracking down her daughter. A daughter she loved dearly, and whose fate he still hadn’t decided. No, he didn’t deserve to treat her the same as so many years ago. In a way, he had lost the right and even if her posture was welcoming, he couldn’t treat this visit for something it was not. Not at the moment at least. If she accepted to give him her help, he’d have to make it up to her. He didn't believe it was possible, after having ignored her for so long, but he hoped it was, all the same.

He could begin by greeting her properly.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Catherine.”

He leaned towards her to give her cheek a kiss and so close he could see her internal debate: point out she has been there for years or let it go gracefully?

Catherine didn’t let anything go, but this time she made an exception and that made Sean frown. Why was she being so complacent?

Catherine’s eyes bore into Sean’s and for an instant there was a little whisper of magic between them. Sean kept a firm hand on his control and let her explore his superficial emotions: he was quite sure she didn’t perceive anything but his annoyance.

She frowned imperceptibly at that...

He arched an eyebrow at her.

“That hasn’t worked since I’ve been seven.”

Catherine smiled softly at him, a faraway look in her eyes, the one people get every time they think of things long past, but happy. Then the smile turned sad.

She looked into his eyes, serious.

“No, it hasn’t, except when you were upset.”

“And why should I be upset now?” Sean asked, bewildered, and a bit on the defensive.

The knowing look Catherine gave him was unsettling: what did she know now?

“Please, Sean, I’ve known you since you were born. Let’s not play this game. Come and sit down.”

He followed her in the living room.

“Do you want something to drink?”

He shook his head and sat on the sofa and Catherine beside him. He would have preferred more distance, but he was by now convinced he wouldn’t get out of the conversation and get her help, before revealing a lot more than what he was comfortable with. An unpleasant prospective, but she was his only chance for waking Nick and he would take it, even if some lines couldn’t be crossed.

“So, what has brought you here - finally, I might add?”

Catherine was comfortably leaning on her side of the sofa, but her gaze on him was intense and unwavering.

A familiar sense of being trapped, forced, was already spreading in Sean’s body, but he tried to quell the spikes of fear it induced: Catherine wouldn’t hurt, betray him, he knew. She knew his weaknesses, his fears, his past, she was trusted. Pity the unconscious part of his mind wasn’t so easily convinced.

He looked away for a moment, gaze lingering on a splendid mantel. The fireplace, though, was too reminiscent of the one in the house they lived in in Europe, and the distant reminder of France, his Family, brought his situation in a sharp, painful clarity.

“Adalind has betrayed me.”

He said, turning to look at her. She gave him an almost compassionate look and sighed.

“I can’t say I’m surprised, Sean.”

He almost snorted. Wasn’t it ironic that a person, who hasn’t seen Adalind in thirty years, even if that person was her mother, wasn’t surprised by that?

He had really been a fool, too confident in his ability to control her. Catherine’s next words voiced his own conclusions.

“Despite how much I’ve tried to educate her, she has always been unable to accept that life didn’t always go as she wanted, that she couldn’t always get everything. Particularly, when other people’s feelings are concerned. And she had always been petty and mean in those situations, unable to accept them.”

She paused and her gaze almost pinned Sean.

“You should have realized her obsession with you would lead her to betrayal, after you’ve denied her desires for so long.”

“Interesting. So, you’ve never bought her story that I’m her mate?”

At that, she scoffed.

“Oh, please, no Hexenbiest could be so selfish in regards to her mate. Don’t make me say something you know so well.”

Oh, yes, he certainly knew: the sacrifices Catherine had gone through for his mother, and his mother for her, had been tremendous during the years. And with a pang of guilt, he admitted that part of those sacrifices was his fault. Deep down that was probably one of the main reasons why he hadn’t wanted to see her, and he had tried to forget his life before Portland. Not that his Family’s occasional requests could make him forget. But seeing Catherine here, away from his mother, talking about mates... No, he didn’t deserve to treat her the same as forty years ago, as if he hadn’t ignored her for so long. He surely didn’t deserve her help.

He turned from her and looked at his hands. He didn’t know what to reply. Maybe he should just change subject.

Catherine’s hands were suddenly squeezing his.

He looked up at her. This time the warmth and compassion in her expression was plain to see.

“I know where your thoughts have gone.” she paused and cleared her throat. “And it’s not your fault, whatever you’re thinking.”

A lump in his throat made it difficult to reply and his voice was rough.

“If mother is still in Europe, at _his_ court, at his mercy, it’s my fault. And if I hadn’t found it intolerable to live there, you wouldn’t be here, for months every year, to keep an eye on me, for her. So, again: my fault.”

A pause and then he forged ahead to finish the painful, but undeniable truth.

“If I hadn’t been born, or at least, if I had been born _normal_ , things would have gone differently. And you know it.”

Catherine’s expression was blank for a moment, and then downright pissed. Here she was, the Catherine he knew. He had wondered how long it would take him to bring her out.

“I would slap you for that, Sean.” she hissed. “I hope, for your sake, that you didn’t voice those opinions of yours to your mother, ever, or I will kill you myself. After everything, she doesn’t deserve to hear her beloved son speak like that.”

He tried to keep his expression blank, even if those words were a slap themselves. He knew how much his mother loved him. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t the reason of many of her pains. At least at that list he had never added the fact that he had voiced his opinions about his birth.

“No, of course I never did. I can't be cruel to her, I know how fiercely she loves me.”

Catherine nodded.

“Good. But the fact is that you don’t really know."

At his inquisitive look she went on.

"What I mean is that you can’t understand, not being a mother yourself.” she smiled at him at that. “And obviously no one knows how a male Hexenbiest instincts works when children are involved. A Hexenbiest’s love for her children, anyway, is very strong, and the desire, need to protect almost absolute. An instinct so strongly driven as almost the one towards her mate.”

A pensive frown appeared on her face.

“Actually I don’t think it’s possible to say which one is stronger. Usually the two instincts don’t conflict with each other...”

“Because the children are always children of both the Hexenbiest and her mate, Catherine.” he finished, almost wistfully. “And that’s not our case. Mother had always been torn between what she had to do for me and you.”

Catherine scoffed again.

“Sean, sometimes, you’re very dense. I’m grateful you have come here. At least I can help you clear a few things for you. You’ve clearly lived for too long with these stupid ideas.”

He couldn’t say he wasn’t confused by that.

“What do you mean?”

Catherine's blue eyes fixed steadily on his.

"Why do you think I've taken care of you for so many years?"

It seemed a rhetorical question, but Catherine was clearly waiting for an answer, one he didn’t really want to voice. What if what he had thought for years was true? He was strong and confident about his life now, but there was so much pain and abuse his heart could take before something in him broke.

His reticence did not please Catherine, whose eyes were suspiciously bright and the only thing he could focus on in the utter silence of the room.

“Oh, God” she choked then, standing up. “Your father and his Family have done more damage than I thought!” she exclaimed, disgusted, pacing angrily in front of him. A light trembling was coursing through her body.

He was at loss to what to say to make things better. This seemed too... extreme.

“Catherine” he called her softly. She stopped and looked at him. “You’re overreacting.”

If possible, she got even angrier.

“Are you even listening to what you’re saying, Sean? I’ve loved you like my own son since your birth, and now here you are, more than half a century later, thinking I’ve taken care of you out of some stupid sense of duty towards your mother or some nonsense like that! And all this because your father’s family is made up of sadistic bastards, who convinced you you are unworthy or useless or I don’t even want to know what!”

His heart squeezed painfully at the sight of her lucid eyes, the tears clearly threatening to come out in a moment or two. He couldn’t let her suffer like this. He stood up too and went to embrace her. He hadn’t hugged her since he had been a child, and the startling physical proof of how much taller he had become since then was unsettling. But she fit in his arms, and for once in his life he could be her anchor, he could be the one comforting her, and not the other way around.

He rested his face on the top of her head, her scent so familiar and identical after so many years. He couldn’t help but reassure her then.

"I'm sorry" he whispered into her hair. "I know you love me, I _know_ , but..."

"But the effects of the conditioning and abuse you suffered as a child are still there." She finished for him and sighed deeply. "You can't imagine how it pains me and your mother to know we couldn't protect you."

He had a very detailed idea, actually. While his powers as a Royal or as a Hexenbiest had always been limited, dampened by his hybrid status, the empathy inherited by his mother's side had always been very strong, and sometimes he had thought it was stronger than the one of a full Hexenbiest.

The ease at which he picked up emotions and intentions and the fact that no one had ever picked up on his magic touch when he had read someone’s emotions had made him aware of the extent of his ability. And, so far, the only people he had encountered that were immune to his powers had been Nick and his aunt, because of their Grimm heritage. It had been strange for him, when he and Marie Kessler had met, to see the desperation and the pain in her eyes clearly, but sensing nothing where those emotions should have been.

It was a useful gift, for someone living so disadvantaged in the Wesen world, and out of fear of some kind of retribution from his Family, he had never said anything about it. More often than not it had been a curse: feeling his mother's pain and frustration for years, his father's loathing and his family's hatred for him, had been a terrible burden, worsened often by his own guilt.

If he had been born normal, life for a lot of people - _for his mother_ \- would have gone very differently.

But he didn't want to burden Catherine with that. He loved her and his mother too much to let that happen. Their guilt, should they know, was something ultimately useless and cruel to inflict upon them. After everything they'd gone through for him, he could spare them that pain. He had to.

Catherine took a step back then, clearing her throat. The moment had been extremely emotional, but Sean reminded himself that there were more pressing matters. He and Catherine could discuss his fucked-up childhood and family another time: now the most important thing was waking Nick up.

“So,” she interrupted the silence. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me who smashed your face? And what my darling daughter did.”


	2. Allies and Friends

Kelly Burkhardt hadn’t seen her son for eighteen long years and she was none too pleased that when she finally did, Nick was lying in a hospital bed, dead to the world.   
  
She had a very bad feeling about it and after checking his case history and his eyes - a deep burgundy color - her suspicions were confirmed: this was a Hexenbiest’s work. She was confused, though: why was he still alive? Why use a Zaubertrank and then not kill him? It didn’t make sense.  
  
And that brought home again something she had realized while gathering information before coming to Portland: there was something strange going on in this city, facts that didn’t add up. From the way her sister had died, to the large number of Hexenbiester present in the same city, to the strange rumors about the Grimm who had Wesen as allies and friends. In particular a Blutbad.  
  
She needed more information, and soon, if she wanted to make the right decision for her son. Who knew if his condition would get worse if left untreated?  
  
For the first time in years, she missed her sister acutely. Marie had always known what to do, had always realized what had priority. And, instead, here she was, torn between the need to save her own son and her duty to look for the coins and Kimura. What should she do? The Grimm in her knew how dangerous it would be if Kimura got to the coins first, but the mother in her wondered if she could go after Kimura, risking that her son’s condition might get worse. No, she couldn’t risk her son’s life, after all the sacrifices she had made to ensure he could live, after her husband’s murder.  
  
She needed more information. Maybe the next best step would be testing her son’s allies. If they were loyal, at least she could force their help in finding a solution for the Zaubertrank.  
  
It seemed she had a Blutbad to find.  
  
***  
  
Monroe was having the unpleasant sensation that something big - and very bad - was happening around him, and the unsettling suspicion that he would find himself in hot water, sooner, rather than later. And that he wouldn’t like it one bit.  
  
God, what a mess.  
  
He had a police detail in front of his house, because apparently an ex-police detective, found murdered, had followed him and made photos. His reaction when Detective Griffin had come to his house, asking why someone would be following him, would have been ‘What the hell?!’, but he had refrained and said he hadn’t the faintest idea. Then the man had begun to ask a lot of questions about Nick and their relationship and his discomfort had only increased. Thinking of Nick, why wasn’t he with his partner?  
  
When he had asked the question, the detective had looked at him surprised and then had dropped another bombshell, in an already fantastic day: Nick was in coma, at the hospital.  
  
Coma? Hospital??  
  
At that, he had insisted to go and see Nick for himself. Griffin had gone with him. Apparently he wasn’t to go anywhere without a cop until some guy was apprehended. In his worry, Monroe didn’t think to ask for more details.  
  
The visit at the hospital hadn’t been very enlightening, at first the doctors couldn’t give him any explanation as to why the detective had fallen into a coma. He seemed in peak condition, physically. It was then that Monroe felt the previous sensation of wrong increasing tenfold and insisted that he wanted to check Nick’s eyes. Griffin had been a bit put out at the request, but had let him.  
  
And... bingo! Nick had been put under a Zaubertrank, and that meant only one thing: Hexenbiest, or at least some bastard who knew their damned arts.  
  
His day was getting better and better. How could he help his friend with a cop following his every move?  
  
His first impulse had been to call Rosalee and ask her if she could come and visit Nick herself, but he had stopped, phone in his hand. What if the person who had done this wasn’t gone? And what about the person who was following him? He couldn’t put Rosalee in this kind of danger.  
  
No, it was best to call her when he got home, with the added plus that he wouldn’t have to explain the weird phone call he was sure he was going to have to the already bewildered detective.  
  
It was just best to go home and think from there.  
  
***  
  
Griffin had taken him home and then left him at the door, telling him to call if anything happened and that the detail was staying, at least for a while.  
  
He nodded and went inside.  
  
Ah, home, sweet home.  
  
Well, sweet, with a strange scent permeating the air. Instantly Monroe’s instinct went on alert and he slowly made his way into the kitchen, where, comfortably seated on a chair, was a woman dressed in black, unarmed.  
  
The aura of danger that she emitted, though, was unmistakable and he needed a moment to control his inner Blutbad whose first instinct was to come out at the first hint of danger.  
  
The woman was looking at him intensely, dark gaze unwavering, and suddenly his Blutbad was screaming ‘Grimm! Grimm!’. Monroe froze.  
  
Another Grimm? Here?   
  
Why was his day getting worse and worse?  
  
The woman seemed to notice his wide-eyed stare and her lips twitched minutely.  
  
“Sit down.” she said calmly, and indicated the other chair.  
  
Monroe, who was feeling like he had been thrown into some kind of parallel reality, a strange reality where Grimms invited Blutbaden into their homes and served tea, did as he was told, but said nothing.  
  
The woman just looked at him some more and then spoke:  
  
“I’ve heard some interesting pieces of news before coming to Portland, Blutbad...”  
  
She trailed off. The inflection on his species made Monroe wince. Yes, yes, he knew that she knew. No need to reiterate the danger he was facing.  
  
“Would you like to know the most interesting one?”  
  
The question was said in a deceptively soft tone, and Monroe didn’t believe she was really expecting an answer. More and more, he was feeling like a prey pinned by an unmerciful predator.  
  
She went on.  
  
“Someone says there’s a Grimm in Portland.. and this Grimm is helped by some Wesen, a Blutbad, in particular.”  
  
There, it was in the open.  
  
Now, what should he do? Deny he was that Blutbad? Confirming that he was? After all, why was this Grimm here, exactly? To kill him? She would already have. To gather information? If that, he should totally confirm. But why was she gathering information? Could she be another danger for Nick?  
  
Argh, he hated to be in the dark. And the stress wasn’t good for his control.  
  
"There's no need to either deny or confirm. I saw you at the hospital."  
  
Monroe barely contained his exclamation of surprise: she must be very good, if he hadn't picked her present up in the hospital, and if the cops hadn't seen her.  
  
Despite that and the obvious aura of danger emanating from her, he realized he wasn't feeling as  _he_  was in danger from her. It was startling, but the truth: his Blutbad was quite calm and he did trust his instincts.  
  
Well, the conversation was being too one-sided for his liking and now that he had realized he was safe, at least in a I-won't-get-killed-in-the-next-five-minutes-maybe way, he wanted to say something of his own.  
  
"Why are you here? What do you want?"  
  
His voice didn't come out as assertive as he would have liked, but it didn't tremble either. Small mercies.  
  
"I want your help to wake up Burkhardt."  
  
Monroe almost choked.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You heard me. I can't do it, so you will."  
  
"Okay, well, that was my intention anyway, I mean, he's my friend..." he trailed off a bit, seeing her surprised face.  
  
"Yes, yes, I know, a Grimm and a Blutbad, no need to say anything..."  
  
He was babbling, totally babbling. Well, his inner Blutbad could be calm as a sleeping child, but his mind hadn't still caught up with the idea of another friendly - or semi friendly, at least - Grimm, so sue him if he was nervous...  
  
"I admit it's strange, but not the strangest thing I've ever seen." she said, almost softly, a faraway expression in her eyes for a moment.  
  
Wow, his mind had problems thinking up something stranger, but his life had always been pretty isolated: first with his family, then his pack, and now all alone. What did he really know? Even if, after meeting Nick, he had begun to see some interesting and confusing things. The resident Grimm among those.  
  
And that reminded him of Nick's situation. Damn, he needed to do something, and soon.  
  
"Speaking of strange things, is there a Royal in this city?"  
  
The question pulled Monroe abruptly out of his thinking.  
  
"What? Well, I don't know... I'm not important enough to know something like that and being Wieder... Why do you ask?"  
  
The Grimm gave him a searching look, but he had been honest and it was showing.  
  
"There's a high number of Hexenbiester in this city. Too high for them to live peacefully with no one ruling them. And traditionally Hexenbiester serve royalty."  
  
"Yes, I know..."  
  
A horrible thought formed in Monroe's mind, then.  
  
"Do you think Nick was attacked by a Royal's order? But it doesn't..."  
  
"It doesn't make sense." she finished for him, a bit ruefully. "He has been a Grimm for a year, if the Royal didn't want him here, they would have done something sooner, and there are rumors that..."  
  
She stopped, as if she had realized she had said too much.  
  
"Rumors that?" Monroe insisted. He wasn't above a little fishing.  
  
The woman gave him a look.  
  
"You can tell me. I mean, you should if you want me to help and resolve this."  
  
She smiled a little at that.  
  
"You're right, probably. Apparently the Repears were told, actually more like threatened, to leave Burkhardt alone."  
  
Monroe doubted he could help the shock from showing on his face.  
  
 _What??_  
  
"But..." he tried to say. "Some went after him."  
  
The Grimm gave him a look.  
  
"Reapers aren't know for following orders... Apart those from the Verrat."  
  
Yes, he knew.  
  
"So you think there's a Royal, here, who warned off the Reapers."  
  
"No other Wesen has the power to make such a statement and live."   
  
Yep, that Monroe knew.  
  
But a Royal, in Portland?   
  
Monroe didn't know much about them. You had to be someone important to meet one of them, or be a poor bastard who had caused them one problem too many. And fortunately he didn't fit either category.  
  
But what he knew was that they rarely left their power bases in Europe, always busy with warring against each other, trying to take each other's power. So why was one of their own there? What was so important in Portland to warrant one of them there?  
  
Ha, it seemed life was getting weirder and weirder and for once Nick didn't seem to be the cause. Yes, 'seemed to be' because Monroe couldn't be sure. After all, Nick was  _protected_  by a Royal.  
  
And if Nick had been attacked by a Hexenbiest...  
  
"But that means that the Hexenbiest who attacked Nick either didn't know or..."  
  
"Or they knew and it was a clear attack against the Royal," the Grimm finished his thoughts for him. And how creepy was that? Almost more surreal than having her sitting calmly in his kitchen.  
  
"In that case, though, it would have been more logical to kill him, after rendering him unconscious."  
  
That seemed logical, but...  
  
"I don't believe it's that simple." Monroe thought aloud, something twirling in his mind.  
  
The Grimm gave him an inquisitive look.  
  
"Think about it!" Monroe exclaimed, almost excitedly. Suddenly something in his head made sense.  
  
"They didn't want to kill him. Why use a Zaubertrank to make someone unconscious if your only end is to kill him? There are a lot of more effective and faster ways to take down someone..."  
  
He paused for a moment.  
  
"No, everything went as they wanted. The attacker did exactly what they wanted to Nick."  
  
The Grimm was silent for a moment, then nodded in agreement.  
  
"Yes, it makes sense." she agreed and then stood up.  
  
Monroe's instinct were instantly on alert and he wondered if he had made a mistake in confiding his reasonings to someone who was a stranger, after all, even if she seemed really interested in what happened to Nick. Was it some kind of responsibility a Grimm felt for a fellow Grimm? Who knew.  
  
Monroe stood up as well, just to be sure.  
  
The Grimm looked at him for a moment.  
  
"I'm counting on your help for Burkhardt."  
  
"Why do you trust me?"  
  
He couldn't help but ask and cringed. Way to go, Monroe! Make her doubt you now that she is leaving!  
  
The Grimm regarded him solemnly.  
  
"I don't  _trust_  you, per se. I trust the worry I saw in you while you were at the hospital. That wasn't faked."  
  
Well, okay, she had a good point.  
  
"But why don't you..."  
  
"I have something else to take care of." she interrupted him and then turned to go.  
  
But Monroe had another pressing question that didn't want to stay inside his mouth.  
  
"Why do you care about what happens to Nick?"  
  
She stopped and for a moment he almost believed that it would be this simple, that she would answer, but then she started walking again and in a second she was gone.  
  
Too, too weird, Monroe thought.  
  
How could he explain what had just happened to Rosalee?  
  
***  
  
"So she put him under a Zaubertrank and then disappeared, probably to Europe. And if that wasn't enough, you have a Dragon's Tongue member roaming around for those damned coins that Burkhardt has probably hidden somewhere."  
  
Catherine finished. Sean nodded.  
  
"Mon dieu, what a mess."  
  
Sean couldn't find a better way to put it. The entire situation was a mess. Kimura was a ticking timebomb, besides being an unknown factor. In a moment of pure and stupid selfishness he had hoped Nick was awake so he could be the one to take Kimura down. What an unfitting thought for him! He was a leader and he shouldn't think like that. It was just another example of the wariness and lack of control he was feeling lately. He hated it with passion.  
  
"Sean, what was Burkhardt's eye colour?" Catherine asked him suddenly with a certain urgency. He looked at her, attentively, but she was standing, looking away from him.  
  
"Burgundy."  
  
Her intake of breath wasn't a good sign. It wasn't good at all.  
  
"What?" he asked, sharply.  
  
Catherine turned and looked at him. Her expression was somber.  
  
"I think I know which..." she began, but then trailed off and sprinted towards another room.  
  
The time it took him to reach her in the library - nice and well supplied - Catherine already had a book opened and was cursing someone very colorfully.  
  
He stopped at the threshold and leaned against the doorjamb.  
  
"What, Catherine?"  
  
She looked at him and her expression was pained, full of sorrow. A vague sense of uneasiness began to creep onto him. It couldn't be that bad, could it? But they were talking about Adalind's work of revenge here. He didn't believe she had gone easy on him. Actually, she had probably done her absolute worst.  
  
He took a deep breath.  
  
"Just tell me." he said softly.  
  
"It's called 'The Sleeping Beauty Enchantment'," she began, her voice rough.  
  
"Not a stupid German name?" he asked, chuckling, hoping to defuse the atmosphere.  
  
Well, she smiled a bit at that. Good.  
  
"No, it's not. It's French, in origin, actually. Something very devious and cruel. Something you can expect from a Frenchman."  
  
Sean laughed a bit at that. His Family was French and devious and cruel.  
  
"And something you can expect from a Hexenbiest with revenge in mind."  
  
Sean waited. And waited. And then sighed.  
  
"Catherine, waiting won't soften it. Just say it."  
  
"Well, Sean, surely you remember the story.”  
  
Story? What...  
  
"You mean the fairytale?" he asked incredulously.  
  
Catherine nodded.  
  
"That, and a bit more."  
  
***  
  
 _"The exchange of blood is a kiss of utter devotion."_  
  
Repeated Monroe, after Rosalee had already said it.  
  
He read it again from the book. Nope, it still didn’t make sense. He looked at Rosalee. Her expression was very, very dark, and worried. The most worried he had seen on her face so far.  
  
Oh, damn. Why, why couldn’t things get easier sometime? And why him? Really, why?  
  
But first things first.   
  
"What does that mean, exactly? Or does it not make sense only to me?”  
  
Rosalee sighed.  
  
“It means that to wake up Nick two things are required.”  
  
She paused, but Monroe didn’t push her.  
  
She took a deep breath and went on.  
  
“The first is like the phrase says: an exchange of blood. I think during a kiss is better.”  
  
Monroe couldn’t help the shock from showing on his face: giving and taking blood during a kiss? He had not always been a Wieder Blutbad, but even then, some things just weren’t done. Exchanging blood was a sign of commitment, of bonding with one’s true mate - if you believed the legends.  
  
Rosalee seemed to have followed his line of reasoning.  
  
“Nick could find himself bound to the person who kisses him, Monroe.”  
  
“Bound? Are you serious? I thought it was just legends and myths for young, romantic people...” he said, with a slight uncertainty in his tone.  
  
It wasn’t possible to bind a person so easily... was it?  
  
Rosalee gave him an understanding look.   
  
"It's still a Zaubertrank. And if I understand correctly with what little we have, the exchange is necessary to share life force: Nick is closer to death than life right now, and he needs life essence to be brought back."  
  
She sighed.  
  
"Right now Nick's books or even a Hexenbiest's book would be very appreciated."  
  
Monroe had already thought about Nick's books and even if it would be a breach of trust to go to the trailer without the Grimm, he would go there if it could help his friend. No, he hadn't gone because he couldn't risk being followed and made the trailer position known. There was too much precious information there. And since he hadn't notice the murdered detective following him, it was clear he couldn't take the risk and expose Nick's heritage.  
  
He and Rosalee had to do with what they already had.  
  
"What is the second thing you said is needed for it to work?"  
  
"The 'utter devotion'" Rosalee quoted.  
  
Well, the ‘exchange blood’ part was way much clearer.  
  
“What does it mean exactly? I mean, are we talking about dedication, deep friendship even, or love? Because maybe we could call Juliette and see if...”  
  
Rosalee gave him a glare.  
  
“She left him because his work had become too much to handle-”  
  
Well, who could really blame the girl? First, a Siegbarste, and then the crazy Dämonfeuer, and in all that time Nick hadn’t bothered to tell her the truth. Then the lies had become too many, and Juliette had decided their relationship couldn’t go on, with those premises.  
  
No, Monroes couldn’t really blame her.  
  
“- does it speak of utter devotion to you?”  
  
Monroe shook his head.  
  
“No, you’re right, but maybe she still feels something for him, we could try...”  
  
The expression on Rosalee’s face stopped him mid-sentence.  
  
“There’s no ‘try’, Monroe” Rosalee said, voice low. “If the exchange of blood is not done the first time by someone who utterly adores him, we don’t have another chance: Nick will never wake up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I want to say that I have nothing against French people! :)  
> Second, I noticed only now that Renard probably shouldn't know that Kimura is a member of the Dragon's Tongue.. after all, doesn't he see the tattoos after Kelly and Nick beat him up in Nick's house? Sorry for the mistake, but it works for me and so I'm keeping it as it is.  
> Third, I know that my Kelly seems more tolerant than how she appears in the show, but I have thought a lot about that and after reasoning about some details of the show I got to the conclusion that it's not so unreasonable. I won't say why here, but if someone wants to talk about it, I'm here!  
> And lastly.. thank you for reading! :)


	3. At First Sight

“Sean, wait! Wait a moment!”

Catherine exclaimed behind him.

He wasn’t listening to her, though. He was walking purposefully towards the door, his mind replaying Catherine’s last words.

_“If the exchange is not done within three days, the charmed will never wake up again.”_

Damned Adalind! Nick had been cursed three days ago, in the evening. That meant he had only a few hours left to try and wake him up. Actually, there was no ‘try’. It would work or it would work. Sean couldn’t think of another outcome. Nick had, _had_ to wake up, for Sean’s sake. He couldn’t lose the Grimm, not like this.

Damned Adalind! If she ever made the mistake of coming near him or Nick again, he would kill her personally, very slowly. He would savour every moment of it too.

All her years of loyalty had been swept away by that single act. She would not face the Prince of Portland, but his Judge. He hoped for Catherine’s sake that her daughter knew that.

He was opening the door, when Catherine caught up with him and stopped him with a hand on his arm. He was so lost in his plans against Adalind, that the gesture came totally unexpectedly. His first instinct had been to pull, so that Catherine would let him go, but he didn't. He was tempted to do it, but in the end couldn't. She deserved more from him. Who knew what kind of plans she thought he was concocting.

He turned towards her and Catherine’s expression completely stopped him in his tracks. She was afraid.

“What?” he snapped. He regretted it immediately, but he didn’t have much time!

Catherine swallowed.

“What are you going to do? If you’re going to try and find Adalind, to reverse the Zaubertrank...”

He hadn’t thought of that, but Sean knew better.

“No, I know there’s no way to reverse it. Adalind has chosen one of the worst.”

Now Catherine’s look was shattered.

“I know, Sean, and I’m sorry, but she is still...”

“Your daughter” he sighed. “Yes, I know. I’m sorry, Catherine, but she attacked one of the people under my protection. I can’t promise you anything, right now. If I’m able to wake him up, I can only consent to leave her alone, if she swears to never come back.”

Again, Nick's utterly unmoving form sprang to his mind and a swell of rage rushed through him.

“Maybe,” he amended.

Catherine looked at the floor and then into his eyes again.

“No, I understand, just...” she trailed off, as if something had just occurred to her.

“What do you mean, if you’re able to wake him up?”

Her hand was still on his arm. He took it and squeezed it for a moment.

“I have to go,” he said softly.

Her gaze narrowed and he could see the sudden fury in her eyes.

“You’re not going anywhere, until you tell me what the hell you think you’re doing!”

He bristled at that.

“Do I need to remind you who you’re talking to?”

She was downright pissed now.

“Don’t pull that on me, Sean! I have a right to know! What am I going to tell your mother if you go and kill yourself and I could have done something to prevent it?”

That was a low shot, but effective. Heaven help him, he knew he couldn’t leave her like that.

“Why should I get myself killed?” he tried, reasonable.

“I know that expression, Sean,” she glared at him. “You’re going to do the exchange yourself. But it’s stupid! It won’t work, Burkhardt is never going to wake up and you’ll be without your powers too! A complete failure.”

He tried to make his expression blank when he asked her the next question.

“Why shouldn’t it work?”

She snorted.

“The claim you made of him entails a part of devotion in your protection, but surely...” she trailed off, as if she had read something on his face.

“Oh, no...” she moaned.

He didn’t say anything.

“No, please, don’t tell me he’s... he’s...”

He didn’t think he could say it aloud. He had spent so many years, ever since Nick had become a cop, back when Sean had still been a detective, ignoring it, that he thought something in him would break if he confirmed it outside his own heart.

Catherine, though, had no such qualms.

“He’s your mate, isn’t he?”

He could only nod.

Catherine’s hand let him go, then.

“Sean...” she whispered, voice rough. “I can’t tell you not to do it, obviously. Few people know better than me the great lengths a Hexenbiest would go to for her mate, but... please, think about it. Grimm's blood destroys a Hexenbiest’s power. We don’t know what it’s going to do to you.”

He hadn’t really thought of that. When Catherine had finished her explanation of the Zaubertrank, the only thing he could think of was saving Nick, and that he could do it by sheer luck. Adalind hadn’t known about Nick being his mate and that was the loophole he could use to save the man.

Or maybe she had known and that was to be his punishment and her revenge: as she had suffered, he had to lose his powers too, or risk losing his mate. It wasn’t really a hard choice and one Adalind could never understand: the devotion he had for Nick, the need to protect him as much as he could meant that no sacrifice was too great. And losing his powers could have some positive effects too.

That, he could share with Catherine. He didn’t want her more upset than she already was.

“You’re right, I could lose my powers. Or maybe just the ones from my Hexenbiest’s side. But, Catherine... neither situation would be too bad.”

She was completely baffled by that.

“What do you mean?”

“If the blood destroys my Hexenbiest half and I become a full Royal, mother won't be in the clutches of my father anymore. She would finally be free of him. And if, instead, the blood destroys my entire heritage, I would become human, and the link my Family has with me would be severed. They'll think I died and so, again, mother would be free.”

He paused, but Catherine seemed speechless. He decided to go for the final blow.

“Actually, if you think about it, what Adalind has done could be almost considered a favor.”

And wasn’t that ironic? He hoped Adalind had a way to know what was happening in the city, because that would serve her right. He almost regretted he wouldn't be able to see her expression if she ever heard that.

“But, Sean, it would destroy everything you have achieved these years...”

Sean looked into her eyes, his expression serious, to convey that what he was going to say was absolutely true for him.

“Everything I’ve done so far was to build a base to destroy my Family, to make them pay, and to free my mother. If, this way, I will save both her and Nick, it will be enough for me.”

Catherine nodded.

“Yes, I understand.”

“I didn’t want it to come to this, Catherine, but fate has dealt her cards. I’m just content she didn’t ask more than I could give.”

He leaned towards her then, and kissed her forehead.

“Are you sure he’s the one?” she whispered.

“Yes, I am. I’m certain I can wake him up. Don’t worry.”

Her smile was tremulous and her eyes too bright.

“I won’t. I will expect news, do you understand? Don’t disappear on me again, Sean.”

“I won’t.” He promised and then he was out of the door.

***

Sean had never really thought that the day he would claim his mate would come.

As a child, he wasn't sure if he had enough Hexenbiest blood in him for that. Those years were also so dark that a deep part of him convinced itself that he wouldn't get his mate, even if fate had granted him one: what Wesen would agree to having a hybrid as a mate? No one. It was too big a shame. And how could you win over someone who didn't feel the same pull towards you?

Yes, Nature was also a cruel mistress towards Wesen: Hexenbiester's mates didn't feel the same instant attraction and need their counterparts felt. So it was on the Hexenbiest to court her mate and make them fall in love with her.

His mother and Catherine had been lucky in that aspect.

 _And so, so unfortunate in so many others,_ his mind supplied. It must be impossible for Nature to be not cruel, at least towards someone.

When his mother had explained him how having mates worked, he had felt crushed: he knew that no matter how charming or brilliant he was going to be, he would be rejected as soon as the truth came out - and it would come out. A Hexenbiest could lie to her mate by omission only so much before she had to tell the truth. And that wasn't taking into account that there was no way to shield your inner Wesen from a mate.

So, he had tried to resign himself to the idea.

And when his Family had humilliated him and his father had ignored him, he had tried to tell himself that maybe it was better that way, that he could accept that fate had decided he would remain alone, and that it would save his mate a lot of pains. Because, even if by sheer luck, he had a mate, his Family would crush them, like his father had done with his mother. And if he happened to see the gentle gestures between his mother and Catherine, the kisses, the support, the love, he told himself that it didn't matter and that he wasn't envious.

No, there was no mate for him and it was better that way.

He had lived for fifty-one years with that convinction, and every year that passed, and no one he encountered was his mate, the idea that fate had really been cruel to him in every aspect began to settle in him as truth. With so many things having been taken away from him by his hybrid status, it had also precluded him even the joy of finding someone.

When nine years ago everything he had believed changed, his day had begun like so many others: he had woken up, eaten breakfast, bought his favorite coffee on his way to the precinct and tried to be right on time. That day a new bunch of recruits, still fresh from the Academy, would begin to work at the station and his Captain had asked his best detective to be on time. He didn't want to let the man down; Ryan Jackson had done a lot for him in those years, grooming him to be his successor and introducing him to the political life of Portland. The last aspect was unnecessary, since he had already placed his people in strategic places to win the position, but it was still nice to know the man he had respected for so long really thought he deserved the position.

When he stepped foot in the precinct, he felt a kind of awareness he had never felt before and a shiver ran down his spine. His Hexenbiest instincts went immediately on alert, but he felt nothing strange or unusual coming from the station. Even his empathy didn't register anything that warranted suspicion: there was tiredness, irritation, longing, and a bunch of other emotions you would expect from humans who had to get to work on Monday morning.

The sensation of forebonding, of something on the verge of happening, got stronger, the farther he walked into the station.

He was completely on edge. He caught a few people looking strangely at him. Usually, he had the habit of greeting people, but that day he was too tense and all his control went to keep the Hexenbiest inside of him.

As soon as he stepped in the bullpen, the sensation got overwelming. However, he didn't get the chance to scan the room, to see if there was something that could have caused this as his name was called immediately and he saw the Captain at the far end of the room, a group of people forming a line between them.

The Captain gestured him to get beside him and, without looking at anyone, he did. Every step of the way was harder than the previous one, and for a moment he thought he would snap, the tension inside him too much.

What the hell was happening?

He reached the Captain, who said something, probably a greeting. He was pretty sure he mumbled something back, something right, because the man smiled and then gestured to him to turn and Sean finally faced the throng of people occupying the bullpen. He really looked, then, and noticed that they were the new recruits.

He barely heard the Captain talking about the honor of working with new people, how important the work of the police was in a community, how much their department was respected and loved in Portland, he was too busy examinating the face of every single recruit, because he was sure this feeling of being so unsettled was caused by one of them.

When he finally met the intense grey eyes of the fifth one down the line, when the gaze of the man locked onto his, as though he had been called to Sean as Sean had been called to him, something in Sean broke and reassembled itself again. A sudden wave of warmth engulfed him and his breath stopped altogether. He felt like he had finally found a piece of himself, a place he belonged to. As though for once in his life he really _belonged_ somewhere. Like he was finally complete.

When he realized what the feeling was, he felt a profound joy, the purest he had ever felt in his life. And immediately after, the shock of realization: his mate, he had finally found his mate, the perfect match for him.

And in that moment, all the worry he had felt, the pain in believing there wasn't someone out there for him, had vanished as though it had never existed, leaving only a complete sense of peace.

The Captain was still rattling on, and Sean took his time to take his fill of the man. He was young, so young, and clearly happy to be where he was, but his eyes betrayed an old knowledge of pain. That made Sean frown: something must have happened to him, to give him that knowledge, but what? He was suddenly caught by the need to know as much as he could about this man.

He was probably staring, but he noted with delight that every few moments the man's eyes would go back to him, curious. His eyes were a gorgeous grey and the man himself was handsome, in a boyish way. But Sean almost overlooked that. What he could see and liked was the pureness of his soul: there was something in the expression of his face, in the light of his eyes, in his straight posture that screamed goodness.

Sean subtly tried to touch the man's emotions with his empathy, but what he found was unexpected: there was something shielding the man, like a plastic barrier, which pushed him right back. Well, that was interesting! The first exception to his abilities and it was the man he most wanted to 'read'.

He wondered if it was because he was his mate or... Or was he maybe a Wesen he had never encountered before with that particular ability?

He pushed aside his Hexenbiest side that was still ecstatic and crying with joy at having found its mate, and pulled forward his Royal heritage: he didn't do that very often... Most of the Wesen he met knew his position, so he let his aura come forward only with new ones.

The instinctual reaction of Wesen when they felt a Royal presence was to woge and let the one in the dominant position know their species. As far as he knew no one had fought against that instinct and won: a Royal aura could get so strong as to be overwhelming and downright painful if denied.

When his mate didn't so much as twitch, he didn't know what to feel, what to think.

His mate was human. Human!

At first the puzzlement won over everything: a human mate was simply unheard of, but so far everything known about Hexenbiest had gone out the window when it concerned him.

A hand on his shoulder abruptly pulled him from his thoughts and he turned just in time to hear the Captain say his name.

"And this is detective Sean Renard. If you have questions or issues, you can go to him, if I'm not available."

He clapped his hands.

"Let's get you introduced to the guys and assigned."

And with that he began to list the new recruits' names to the riveted bullpen, pairing them off with veteran cops to go on patrol.

Nick Burkhardt. That was his mate's name.

And he was human, human, human!

For a moment he believed that maybe it wasn't such a terrible thing: he could get to know the man and even if relationships inside the same station weren't viewed very well, Sean wouldn't have the problem with dealing with a Wesen who might....

And then it crashed down on him: Nick was human, not a Wesen. He couldn't involve the man in his life, in any capacity whatsoever, there were just too many risks for him. Nick didn't know about his world and he wasn't equipped to deal with it; even a weak Wesen, one who was prey most of the time, could defend himself better than a human, who couldn't sense danger.

Maybe if Sean had been an unimportant Wesen it could have worked, but he was the Prince, for heaven sake, he couldn't risk painting a target on Nick's back and hope things would be okay.

He had spent too many years trying to and, later, taking control of his life, carefully making plans against his Family. He couldn't afford to have such a weakness.

Once more, what his family had repeated to him year after year came back and sounded true. He couldn't trust anyone. Not a human. No one. Not even a mate, who didn't feel anything towards him. He was alone and maybe it was better if it remained so.

No, Nick would never know about any of it and Sean would make sure to keep his distance, and be there only in a professional capacity.

When a few days later he read Nick's file and discovered he had been raised by his infamous Grimm aunt, Marie Kessler, he focused only on what that could mean to him, if Nick ever came into his heritage. He refused to see what consequences that could bring him on a personal level.

There was no personal level. None. He couldn't afford it.

When, nine years later, Marie Kessler came to him and asked him to kill her, he convinced himself he was doing it to strengthen his future Grimm, and not because he was worried about what was coming after Kessler, and therefore after Nick, who was still defenceless without his aunt's powers.

No, it had been just a very good deal. And the protection the dying Grimm asked for her nephew was for a pawn, not for his mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The part about Marie and the deal she made with Sean will be explained later on.
> 
> ***
> 
> I know, no kiss! I hope you're not too disappointed, but I wanted to give Sean a bit of background, to let you know him and his past better.


	4. The Kiss

Sean gazed down at the man still lying in bed. Nick's face was completely relaxed, at peace, with no hint of stress to be seen in the posture of his body. He really seemed to be merely sleeping, but the whole sight was somehow deeply unnatural and unsettling. All that stillness was eerie.

Whoever thought fairytales were magical and romantic was either an idiot, Sean thought unmercifully, or someone who had never thought how creepy they would be if they became reality.

Well, he was certainly someone who was quickly realizing the last part.

He'd known since leaving Catherine's house what the Zaubertrank entailed and even before that he'd known that Nick was under an enchantment, but, somehow, in his last visit he hadn't really _seen_ how Nick's features seemed carved from marble, how he was barely breathing. He hadn't really seen how _still_ Nick was.

A shiver ran down Sean's spine, but he tried to shake it off; he had something to do and he shouldn't be delayed by some induced uneasiness. He had come into the room almost fifteen minutes ago and here he remained, watching the man and doing nothing. 

He frowned. He wasn't an unsure man and in the past he had dealt with some very peculiar (and sometimes downright strange) things, so the collateral damage of a Zaubertrank shouldn't make him hesitate so. There must be something else too. 

He looked down at Nick again, slowly, as if watching the man could shed some lights into his own psyche. 

While taking in the handsome features of his face, it was like a curtain was being lifted and he was suddenly aware of the frantic beating of his heart. He froze, finally realizing the truth: he was anxious, afraid of what he was about to do.

He had already decided, rationally, that this wasn’t changing anything, that Nick would never know, but, unconsciously, he still felt like he was on the edge of a cliff and whatever small step he would take was going to make him fall: a single gesture and his life was never going to be the same.

A part of him was probably influenced by all the lore he had heard growing up about exchanging blood, but there was nothing he could do now; there was little time left, he knew, and even if all those legends were true, they couldn’t matter. He couldn’t condemn Nick to that bed, without trying. Maybe Nick would hate him for it, if he ever knew, but he couldn't stop now.

He took a deep breath and leaned forward.

He stopped when his face was a few, torturous centimeters from Nick’s.

He had never been this close to the man before and suddenly the importance of all this came crashing down onto him. His heart almost doubled its pace, frantically beating its way out of his chest, and breathing felt almost impossible.

He would, he _could_ do this.

He took a deep breath, taking in Nick's scent, and he bit down, hard, on his lower lip. He licked it, tasting blood.

Good, now the next part.

He took another breath and closed the space that was still separating Nick and him.

The first touch of Nick’s lips on his was almost a shock, a deep sense of _right_ and _finally_ flowing hotly through him. He could sense, distantly, a part of him almost panicking at those heady emotions, but a bigger part was crying with relief, with joy, never having felt something so good.

Suddenly it wasn’t enough, he needed, he _needed_... he tried, instinctively, to coax the man into responding, but the lips under his own remained lax and unmoving. Something clicked inside him and the realization that it wasn’t a real kiss, that obviously Nick couldn’t respond, was like a bucket of cold water, and it made Sean remember immediately why he was here. That the reason why, exactly, he was kissing Nick wasn’t for something his Hexenbiest’s side obviously craved.

That side of him cried out in anguish, it hadn't imagined his first kiss with his mate like this, but... his mate... his mate was hurt, unresponding, and he had to...

Sean bit on his lip again, hoping the pain would help him regain his focus, to rein in the despair his Hexenbiest instincts were driving him to and the heady feeling of belonging the taste of Nick's lips had made him feel.

When he felt that his Hexenbiest instincts were somewhat appeased and his mind was clearer, he bit down on Nick’s bottom lip, trying to think of nothing. Less powerful emotions would have been good too, but Nick was there and he was kissing him and... 

He needed to finish this as soon as possible, for his sanity's sake, if nothing else, he thought with a hint of desperation.

But when the taste of Nick’s blood invaded his mouth, something within him snapped and his earlier resolutions melted like snow under the sun. 

He kissed the man hard and desperate, and felt himself falling, totally helpless against the onslaught of emotions the taste of Nick's blood mixed with his were drowning him into under. Something dark rose within him, desperate to taste Nick's soul and swallow him whole. 

Then, for a blissful moment, he felt the lips beneath his own move. His own emotions calmed immediately at the movement and he moaned. Something warm uncurled in his chest and he wanted more, _more_...

Nick’s body convulsed beneath his and Sean was abruptly thrown out of the moment. He froze. With difficulty, he moved back and opened his eyes, trying to get his bearings. He shook his head to clear it, and, when he felt in control of his body at least a little bit, he focused on Nick, trying to see what had happened. Nick was still in the same position as before, though Sean was sure he had moved.

Then he noticed it: the only visible difference was Nick's mouth, red from the blood, some drops dripping from the corner of his mouth, but his eyes... his eyes, still closed, were moving behind his eyelids.

That fact made Sean suddenly more aware of his surroundings and he could hear, distantly, a strange beeping, despite how his heart was still thundering madly in his ears. After a few calming breaths, he focused on the sound and recognized it: the machines attached to Nick were signalling a change of activity.

The thought brought him out of the last remnants of his stupor. He felt a frisson of fear. 

He needed to get out of there. Right now.

He gave one last look at Nick, somehow hesitant to leave the room. Watching the man calmed him, but the accelerating sound of the machines meant his attempt had really worked and Nick would wake up and... and he couldn't deal with it now. He couldn't. 

That spurred him into going.

He went for the stairs, hoping not to meet anyone along the way. He still had Nick’s blood smeared on his lips and he didn’t want to know what sort of impression that gave. 

He never noticed the female Reinigen nurse suddenly freeze in fear in the corridor or her half-afraid, half-awed stare that followed him until he reached the stairwell doors. 

***

It was with a heavy heart that Monroe decided to go to the hospital that evening. Rosalee had tried to convince him to let her accompany him, but he had refused, surprised by how vehemently he wanted to do this alone.

He didn’t really understand why. Usually he enjoyed Rosalee’s presence, she was always a source of comfort for him, but this time he needed to go alone. Maybe it was because he felt like he had failed Nick horribly and needed to see the man alone to apologize, even if Nick couldn’t understand him. Or maybe it was because he needed to fool himself into thinking that they still had a chance to wake Nick and for that Rosalee needed to stay at the shop, looking for a solution. Having her with him at the hospital would only mean that there was no hope left.

He couldn't explain himself, but fortunately Rosalee seemed to understand and let him go.

When he had parked the car and got out, the feelings of failure threatened to overwhelm him. He didn’t know how he managed to get into the hospital. He would've thought the weight that had replaced his heart would've been heavy enough to stop him from moving. 

Apparently it wasn’t and in less time than he thought, the elevator doors were opening to let him out on Nick's floor.

He stepped out and froze, every Blutbad instinct inside him snapping to attention.

There was something in the air...

A presence. 

Definitely a presence: a presence more powerful than any he had ever felt in his life. 

But there was something strange, something... As he realized it, a frisson of fear from his inner Blutbad traveled down his body: the aura he was sensing was Wesen, but not entirely. 

Actually, the Wesen 'flavor' was almost completely drowned out by something else, something...

Monroe focused harder, but his instincts had known the answer all along, had perceived it better than his mind: the aura, its _other_ nature, commanded obedience, respect... _loyalty_.

It was powerful, intimidating, but not threatening.

Monroe didn't know what to think of that. Wesen auras usually screamed at him two possible things: either prey or danger.

But this... the person who was emitting this aura was not a prey, obviously. But they weren't a predator, in the usual sense, either. 

There was something compelling him, as if his Blutbad needed to show... instinctively he took a step forward, but then, suddenly, felt another Wesen presence and he halted.

From around the corner came a female nurse.

She felt like prey to him.

When she noticed him watching her, she stiffened and locked gaze with him. She woged immediately and Monroe could see a Reiningen face observing him intently. 

Monroe didn't underestimate Reiningens anymore after the Roddy debacle, but the species in general was still prey and so their instincts were minutely honed. The nurse, however, had come from around the corner totally oblivious to him and that was...

His thoughts were stopped by the sudden, jerking of the nurse's nose and her widening eyes.

What...?

Curious, he scented the air. 

There was a strange smell, barely there at all, actually, getting slightly stronger in the opposite direction of the ward, towards the stairs.

It was familiar, but a layer of it was wrong at the same time.

He focused on it, taking a step towards the stairs and consequently the nurse, who promptly froze again. Then, with a sudden start, she dashed past him and towards the nurse's station, where a group of people was chatting.

Ha, safety in numbers, Monroe thought ironically.

Thinking of safety made him suddenly remember the presence he had felt earlier, but with either relief or dismay - he didn't really know - he realized the aura was out of his range of perceptiveness. 

He sighed.

Who knows what that was and what he/she was doing in a hospital...

Then it hit him with a ton of bricks.

Nick!

Nick... a Grimm. Who was here, still unconscious and easy prey for whatever....

With panic quickly rising in his heart, he hurried towards Nick's room.

The sight that greeted him, made his heart drop: several nurses and doctors were hovering around Nick's bed, in a blur of activity.

He felt a new overwhelming rush of panic. Was Nick...?

He didn't know how, but he slowly made his way towards the room.

He should have been here with Nick, his friend, instead he had let...

And then a doctor moved out of the way, giving him a straight sight of the bed, and what he saw there totally made his day, his week, his month, maybe even his year: Nick was there, sitting up, blood smearing his lips, but he was awake! 

Well, he also looked quite lost, but he was conscious.

It was one of the best things Monroe had ever seen.

He almost bursted out laughing, joy and disbelief warring inside his chest.

This was surely the luckiest Grimm who had ever lived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long, but I have three good excuses: first, I admit, I struggled with the kiss. It was hard to reach a point where I could say I was satisfied with it.  
> Second, I often have headaches, something I have learnt to live with, but they don't exactly put me in the right mind for writing. They will probably be one of the main reasons why updates won't be very swift in the future.  
> Third, after finishing the chapter, I had an idea to change part of the plot, idea that I liked very much. That required, unfortunately, to rewrite half of the chapter.
> 
> So, here it was at least, after three weeks of wait. I hope it was worth it, at least :) let me know!


	5. The Cursed Children

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should apologize and say it won't happen again, but I won't. First, because a lot of things happened this past year that made it impossible for me to update until three months ago, and second, because I can't promise it won't happen again. A year ago I didn't think it would take me this much to update, but here we are.  
> That said, this story will be finished and compared to a year ago I have a much clearer idea where I'm going, so it should be easier for me to go on.
> 
> Thanks to all of you who are still reading. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Sean stepped out of the hospital, still reeling from what had happened. He tried to think of something else – to focus on what he should do next – but his mind kept on going back to Nick and their kiss.

The kiss... Those lips against his, the sweet scent of Nick, not at all hampered by the usual sickly smells of a hospital and the heady taste of his blood. His blood... A deep, almost primal part of him – his Wesen half probably – was deeply satisfied. The sharing of blood was something powerful, an ancient way of claiming mutual ownership. Despite what Grimm blood could do to a Hexenbiest, his inner Hexenbiest had obviously taken the kiss as the first, decisive step in claiming her mate, not caring of the consequences.

Did that mean that, contrary to what had happened to Adalind, Nick's blood had done nothing to his powers? Suddenly he realized that Adalind had tasted his mate's blood and Sean was almost swept away by a flood of rage.

The unexpected ring of his cellphone startled him and allowed him to rein in the strange possessiveness. He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself and his instincts. As soon as his heartbeat slowed to a more normal pace, though, a sense of dread slowly creeped forward, fueled by fear. What was happening to him? The control he usually had on his instincts was not as strong as before, and he couldn't afford to let loose his inner Hexenbiest, not now, and surely...

His ring-tone started again. Damn, he needed to focus.

He took out his phone from his pocket and looked at the caller ID. It was Wu calling him for the second time. That wasn't good. Taking a deep breath, he answered.

“Renard speaking.”

“Sir.” Wu's voice came through clear, but the pause after the greeting didn't bode well.

“Yes?” he prompted, without hiding his annoyance. He didn't want to have to coddle his officers today, on top of everything else.

“We have a body, sir. Asian man, matching the description we have for the man who assaulted you and murdered the ex-detective, sir.”

Maybe something was going to go right today.

“I'm coming.” he said. “Where are you?”

A pause, again.

“At Burkhardt's house, sir.”

The answer froze Sean for a second. How...?

He stopped the words he had on his tongue. If Wu's hesitant demeanor was anything to go by, the man had no idea what had happened either and asking would be totally useless.

And he had thought the hard part of the day was done!

He could feel the beginnings of a headache at his temples, the stress accumulated during the day – no damn, the past week – letting itself known.

He bit back the sigh and said the only thing he could.

“Call Griffin. I'll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, sir.” Wu answered almost brightly. Sean closed the phone, finally looking up.

Only then he noticed that in his haze he had gone back into the hospital's front hall. He stopped immediately and forced himself to go back out to the parking lot. Something in him was pressing him to turn around, but he tried to ignore it.

Obviously, distance from the hospital – from _Nick_ – was needed. He tried to not look back, but it was impossible. As he reached his car, he couldn't help one last look at the hospital. He didn't know how, but he was sure he had looked right at Nick's room's window, exactly the same as the other dozens.

It wasn't comforting at all.

***

Dark.

Everything was dark. And silent. And oddly warm.

Actually, more than warm. It was the exact temperature that, combined with slight humidity, made 'warm' into something beginning to be uncomfortable.

No, no. It was more than uncomfortable.

The more he focused on it, it seemed as if the temperature and humidity rose, and breathing became heavier, more difficult.

And there was no way to go. Nowhere to run. There was nothing. Nothing but dark and silence and hot. It was so hot...

Where was he? Where..? Nothing made sense... He didn't remember anything, but he knew, he knew _this_ was wrong.

Surely, something had to be here?

Where was he?

He tried to focus, to remember, but the more he focused on his thoughts the hotter he felt, uncomfortable and trapped, as if something pressed down on him from every side, even if there was nothing – nothing but dark emptiness.

But how... _how?_

He couldn't even say how long he had been there. Focusing on time was hard: how could you tell time when there was nothing but silence and darkness?

He tried to clear his mind, focusing on the nothingness around him.

At first he thought he was imagining it. It crept up on him slowly. A slight change, a soft movement of air in the dark emptiness that surrounded, imprisoned him. There was a barely-there shift of air. Slowly, painfully slowly – so slowly that he feared he was going insane imagining a way to escape the void – the push of air gained in strength, until he could call it a breeze. It was touching his face, almost carefully. It caressed his mouth, his cheeks, his eyelids, his ears.

Suddenly, it enveloped him completely and dragged him forward, though he still had no sense of where forward was.

The tingling on his lips and eyelids became more pronounced, as if the breeze wanted him to do something. But what? What was happening?

The pressure became almost painful, until he opened his mouth. A strange taste filled it immediately, both coppery and sweet at the same time. Instinctively his tongue moved and touched the walls of his mouth, meeting a strange, thick substance. He swallowed without thinking and felt warmth spread down into his body. If before the hotness had been uncomfortable, this warmth was comforting, welcomed. He felt stronger, as if something was helping him. A shiver rippled through him, and then his mouth was full and he was choking, he couldn't breath and...

He blinked his eyes and something bright pierced them. He blinked again.

The silence was gone.

“...waking up....”

“It's amaz-...”

Noise! Words!

He focused on them, trying to ignore the heady taste in his mouth. It was so strong it was almost overwhelming now.

He blinked his eyes again and a face was looming above him. He startled.

What...?

The man was saying something, mouth moving, but he couldn't focus enough to hear.

“...all right, Mr...”

He breathed and a strange smell hit his nose, familiar, but not in a comforting way. He licked his lips and that was another mistake. The coppery taste from before was still there, now even stronger.

What...

With sudden insight, he recognized it. Blood!

And then everything went into sharp focus and the man's words became clear. It was a continuous loop of the same words.

“You're all right, Mr Burkhardt. Do you understand me? You're all right.”

When he felt he could, he tried to talk, but his mouth was too dry, something gritty making it difficult to swallow and try again.

He could only nod.

The man – a doctor, he realized then – smiled in relief and offered him an ice chip. He looked at it, not even trying to reach out for it. The man brought it near his lips and he opened his mouth. The ice, melting immediately, slid down his throat like a balm and he felt instantly better, even if still confused.

What the hell was happening?

The doctor was beginning to say something when Nick's attention was caught by something behind the man. He looked and there he saw a man, standing frozen in the doorway. The stranger's expression was a study in shock, confusion and happiness.

He knew this man.

Who...?

A flash of red eyes flared up in his mind and he remembered.

Smiling, he croaked out.

“Monroe.”

The sound was weak, but somehow the man heard it despite the chattering herd of nurses and doctors in his room he hadn't noticed until just now.

Monroe's smile back at him was wide and infectious. He couldn't help but smile back.

***

The body in Nick's destroyed living room was, indeed, an Asian man, a man Sean had barely glimpsed before being rendered unconscious. It had been enough for him to remember his face.

It seemed the Dragon Tongue's quest for the coins had come to a halt in his detective's house somehow. With sinking dread, Sean realized he now had even more questions than before. Questions that a dead man couldn't answer and that, with a Grimm down and a power base still shaken by Adalind's betrayal, he had almost no hope to find answers to. He knew he should redirect some of his resources to this new mystery, but Nick was still in the hospital, defenseless, and now more than ever he couldn't afford to lift Catherine's protections. Her daughter was still at large, but he shouldn't underestimate Adalind's resourcefulness. If there was someone that could created problems despite being human, it was Adalind. So he couldn't afford to call back the people who were patrolling the city. And he couldn't, in good conscience, send normal police officers after something that had been able to take down a Schakal member of the Dragon Tongue.

That, though, reminded him of something.

“Wu!” he called out, sounding stern and slightly annoyed.

Wu was beside him in an instant, watching him carefully, and Sean wanted to wince. He was not being his usual, calm self and it was just his luck that someone as perceptive as Wu was directing the officers processing the evidence in the house. He could only hope that this time Wu had more sense than to start spreading around how on edge Sean seemed. He didn't need that kind of rumor to get to the mayor. He couldn't deal with that man on his back too at the moment.

“Where's Griffin?” he asked, before the man could open his mouth.

If possible, Wu appeared more uncomfortable than before.

“He should be almost here, sir.”

“If he's not here in five minutes, call him again,” he barked out and stalked out of the house. The police officers that were processing the splintered door immediately cleared a path for him, but Sean couldn't care less.

He knew he was acting out of character, but he couldn't help it, and even if that should have worried him, he only felt restless, full of nervous energy, and he didn't know how to calm down.

As soon as he reached his car, he brought his hands up to lean against the vehicle. He breathed deeply.

It seemed to be working, when the chirp of his phone startled him out of the exercise.

Reluctantly he pulled it out, hoping it wasn't more bad news.

It was a message from an unknown number.

_Come to my house as soon as you can. Do not delay more than you need to. I mean it, Sean. Catherine_

Sean grimaced, guilt surging through him. He should have called her as soon as he left the hospital.

He was debating whether it was better to call her and listen to her insist he visit her immediately or sending her a text, when the phone began ringing in his hand. This time, he knew who it was: Griffin.

He answered immediately, already having an idea as to why he was calling.

“Renard speaking.”

“Captain, it's Griffin.” the detective answered, sounding distracted. Sean could hear the sound of a car running in the background. “The hospital called. Nick's awake.”

***

Catherine was worried, she couldn't help it. Sean had been gone for more than two hours now and surely that was enough time to do what he needed to do?

She had debated on calling him, but hadn't wanted to intrude, to make him feel cornered. God knew he was prickly that way, even if she knew he had his reasons. That didn't make waiting easier for her, though.

In the end she decided to send a text: less invasive if he was busy and less likely to make him distance himself from her again.

But surely, if he had had problems he knew he could call her for anything, she tried to reassure herself. Didn't he?

Suddenly, she remembered the equally surprised and lost expression he had worn when she had explained that she loved him. How could she and Marianne have read Sean so wrongly in the past? They had always thought they had shown him how important he was to them, how central his well-being had always been in their lives.

They had cared for him from the bottom of their heart because they have both loved him fiercely, despite the hurt they had been put through by Sean's father. In fact, all he more because of it. From one of the most painful and desperate times of their lives, they had received a gift, and they had treasured it deeply.

It had been the same with Adalind, but clearly, Catherine was beginning to painfully realize, she and Marianne hadn't done a good job with either the children they had raised.

Catherine sighed. No, they hadn't done a good job at all.

Not for the first time in her long life, Catherine thought about how Hexenbiester's lore had always preached that a child born from a Hexenbiest and someone not her mate would be cursed. A mate was thought to be Nature's gift to a Hexenbiest and making a child with someone else was an unforgivable spurn of that gift. The conception of such a child was against Nature and would curse their life forever.

Both Catherine and Marianne had always known the painful ideas Sean had about his conception and his own nature. They had been very careful to ensure that tidbit of lore never got to him whether from books or from the words of a Hexenbiest herself, but Catherine was beginning to suspect Sean had reached the same, awful conclusion based on how he had been treated by the other members of his family. After all, who could deny Sean's unique nature?

And if no one could say both Adalind and Sean had been cursed in the traditional sense of the word, no one could say they had not been damned in a lot of other ways.

But now was not the time to dwell on this. Nor on Adalind. It was Sean's time. He was her most immediate concern. Not his nature, not her daughter, but him, as a person – as a son who needed help. Part of her heart hoped Adalind was okay and that soon she would have the chance to find her and discover just what was going on with her.

Really, what in the hell had her foolish daughter been thinking, attacking Sean like that?

Catherine stopped herself from following that line of reasoning. Now was not the moment.

Sean. She had to think about him. It was her only duty at the moment. She owed it to him and to Marianne.

The sudden urge to call her mate, to hear her comforting and beloved voice gripped her, but she resisted. She couldn't put Marianne in the unbearable position of knowing Sean was in trouble and of not being able to do anything but wait. Marianne couldn't leave Europe suddenly, couldn't risk drawing the attention of the Royals to Portland and her son in his weak moment. And even if Catherine needed her, she still had no news of Sean. As far as Marianne knew, Sean was okay, and she would remain in the dark until it was no longer possible. Catherine would be the only one to know the danger he was in.

Again, she looked at her silent phone, knowing Sean still hadn't written or called, but hoping all the same.

The screen was still blank.

She paced a bit more in the living room, thinking of what she could do, but, really, waiting was her only option. After all, she couldn't help with the waking up of the Grimm or with the consequences. If Sean were to lose his powers as a Hexenbiest, as weak as they were, there was nothing she could do. Or at least, nothing Sean would be willing to do to get them back. There were rituals, and sacrifices, a Hexenbiest could preform to get her powers back, but they were so dark and unnatural that even most Hexenbiester were reluctant to taint themselves with them and risk that the powers wouldn't accept coming back to a body so corrupted.

Even Catherine and Marianne would hesitate to give help if Sean wanted to go through them. Not that there was a chance of that. Catherine had always known Sean didn't value his Hexenbiest legacy and how could he, after everything he'd had to endure because of it, being the first and only male Hexenbiest? No, Sean wouldn't ask, and maybe he would see losing that part of himself as a blessing, if his earlier words were anything to go by.

With a sudden thought, she realized that while Sean would never thought of getting his powers back, Adalind probably would. She had always enjoyed her powers, what they could do for her, and the fearful respect other Wesen gave her because of them.

Really, how could she have been so blind to her daughter's faults? Marianne had told her once, long ago, that they couldn't trust Adalind anymore, but it had been so hard for her to accept. She had seen Adalind do a lot, but she had still been her daughter, and even if she had told Sean she hadn't been surprised in knowing Adalind had betrayed him, the heartless way she had chosen to do it had shocked her all the same. The Zaubertrank itself was vicious, but then again no one who had caused a Hexenbiest to lose her powers could expect something merciful to befall them. So Catherine wasn't surprised by the way Adalind had chosen to deal with Burkhardt. What had surprised her was how her daughter had disrespected Sean's orders. In a way, it seemed Adalind had seen him as at fault as the Grimm, but she had conveniently forgotten how loose Sean had made his orders, or so Sean had stated more than once to her. Sean had been fond of Adalind, if not as of a proper big sister, still as a close relative he had grown up with, and he hadn't wanted to put her too much at risk. Her only task was to discover where the key was hidden. The ways to achieve those results had been up to her.

She had messed up spectacularly and when Sean had told her to back away from Nick, she hadn't and here they were. Adalind had lost a part of her and she apparently blamed Sean for it. At that point, years of unrequited crush, the distance Sean had put between them and her need to show herself as someone Sean could need again had turned into the resentment of a spurned lover. Her immaturity had no doubt taken control, making her suddenly uncaring of Sean's precarious position as Portland's Royal and as an unwanted member of the most powerful Royal Family.

Maybe she was being too unfair to Adalind, too fast in condemning her, but Catherine couldn't forget those many incidents in the past that had shown Adalind's cruel and vicious nature. She had always know Adalind was capable of them. She had just never thought they would be directed at Sean.

Sean, whom Adalind had always defended since he had been a child.

Catherine could remember, as if it was yesterday, Sean as a child: sweet, always quiet, starved for affection and acceptance and fiercely attached to the people who loved him. Adalind had been among those, until something had happened almost thirty years ago and he had begun to slowly but steadily distance himself from her. Adalind's reaction had been the total opposite, starting to cling to him even more, almost desperately.

_Catherine, Adalind can't be trusted with Sean anymore._

Suddenly, Marianne's words of so long ago sprang up in her mind and Catherine wondered what she had really missed that her mate hadn't.

A sense of hopelessness began to pervade her, and under that, making her feel even more frustrated, a quietly seething anger towards her daughter, because Catherine would have really appreciated Adalind's choice of revenge, if only that vengeance hadn't been directed at her other child and the Royal she had sworn herself to. Adalind had finally been able to make Catherine do something she had managed to avoid for years now: being in the unpleasant position of choosing a side between her children and between her children and her mate; and Catherine hated it.

She hoped Adalind wouldn't show her face soon, otherwise she didn't know what she would do to her.

The faint sound of the door opening, in her hyper-aware state of mind, was enough to shake her from her thoughts and suddenly her mind was filled with a sense of danger, her instinct to flee or fight flaring up.

She turned immediately towards the front hall, her powers suddenly under her skin and at her fingertips, but she was still a fraction of second too slow. Suddenly, she was being hurled against the wall, her breath knocked out of her with the impact.

Her vision blurred, and then her breath was nearly cut off by a strong, small hand at her neck pinning her with unbelievable strength.

When she could see again, her heart almost stopped.

A Grimm was looking right at her, eyes as cold and distant as death. There was a gun pushing painfully against her temple.

“Where is the Royal, Hexenbiest?”


End file.
